


when your heart beats next to mine

by everhtorne



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Mindless Fluff, it was such a struggle to keep this clean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 00:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2672171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everhtorne/pseuds/everhtorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Jemma smiles again and then tilts her head, touching her forehead against his first and then gently brushing their lips together. She’s warm and delicate and so soft. Every part of her is soft, not just her lips – the skin of her shoulders under Fitz’s fingertips and the waves of her hair and her closed eyelids and hot cheeks.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	when your heart beats next to mine

**Author's Note:**

> Set the evening that Fitz returns after his mission with Ward in The Hub (S01E07)
> 
> Dedicated to Isabelle for ruining my life with this ship.

* * *

_His voice is a familiar sound,_   
_Nothing lasts forever but this is getting good now._

* * *

She sees him as soon as she rounds the corner, sitting in his bunk with his hands in his lap and his eyes on the ground. 

Jemma heads over to the open door immediately; smiling in what she hopes is a friendly-not-at-all-condescending manner when she catches Fitz's attention. She nods down to the space on the mattress beside him.

"Mind if I -"                                                              

"No," Fitz shakes his head, shuffling over even though there's plenty of space. "Course not."

Jemma smiles again and sits down slowly, exactly where she had sat talking to him before he left in the morning.

"How are you feeling?" she asks softly.

Fitz rolls his eyes at her. 

"I told you before, I'm fine."

Leaning further back against the wall, Jemma turns to him.

“Was it scary?”

“Not really,” he waves a dismissive hand.

He's quiet for a moment. Jemma knows she should probably stop going on about it but she can’t help herself.

“I was worried.”

Fitz immediately frowns and looks away, shaking his head defensively.

“I know everybody thinks I’m incapable –”

“No one thinks that!”                 

“And yeah, sure, Ward has a bit more experience than me doing fieldwork –”

“Quite a lot more,” Jemma comments, mostly to herself.

“But I’m not an idiot,” Fitz finishes. “I can take care of myself.”

Jemma waits a few moments to allow him to calm down before speaking softly.

“I know you’re not an idiot. That’s not what I was saying. I was worried about you, that’s all.” Fitz doesn’t look particularly reassured so Jemma adds, “I worry about everyone, you know me. I was worried about Ward as well.”

Fitz turns to look at her directly with a deadpan expression on his face.

“Don’t patronise me.”

Jemma bites down on her lower lip to stop herself from smiling. Taking a breath, she reaches across and takes Fitz’s hand in hers, squeezing it lightly. He looks surprised.

“I wasn’t worried about you because I think you’re _incapable_ ,” Jemma emphasises slowly. “It’s just because I care.”

“I’m sorry, weren’t you the one who said one of the reasons I shouldn’t go is because I lack any real physical strength?”

She nudges him until he looks up, still gripping onto her hand.

"I'm glad you're okay."

Fitz breathes out a humourless laugh.

"Yeah. Me too." 

In all honesty, she hadn't been so worried in a long time. She knows it's ridiculous. Fitz is perfectly capable of fieldwork. It's just - she feels that she's known him for such a long time now, when these dangerous situations occur she can't help picturing him as the Fitz she first met; the Fitz who had no idea how to confront a bully or throw a punch, let alone take out trained agents.

He's changed so much since then, objectively she knows that, but sometimes - only sometimes - it's easy to forget. It's so easy to imagine him being a teenager again, young and innocent and defenceless. It's so easy to let her mind wander and come up with the worst possible scenario.

“Did I tell you about the guy I beat up?" Fitz murmurs.

Jemma smiles to herself.

"Yeah, you did. In fact, I think you told everyone."

"But did I mention the part where I knocked him out?"                                               

He had but Jemma decides to humour him anyway. She shakes her head and raises an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Yeah, I kicked him in the head and he just fell to the ground,” Fitz makes a dramatic gesture to demonstrate what he means.

“Is that so?”

“And did I tell you about how I modified the weapon and used it to immobilise the other bad guys?”

“Yeah,” Jemma nods, smiling proudly.

“I had Ward’s back the whole time.”

She laughs under her breath, closing her eyes.

Forcing herself to stay focused (Fitz is here, he's alive, he's _fine_ ), Jemma leans her head onto Fitz's shoulder and sighs, resting against his side. A comfortable silence settles over them like a reassuring blanket, reminding Jemma that they're both here, alive and _fine_ and, for now at least, she can relax.

But Fitz’s shoulder tenses under her touch and Jemma sits up, glancing at him. His face is tensed as well, as if he’s thinking hard about something.

“What’s up?” she asks, arching an inquisitive eyebrow.

The small smile that was on his face has gone. His lips are pursed and his foot is tapping against the wall with a nervous energy.

“Fitz, what is it?” Jemma questions him again, becoming concerned.

Fitz takes a breath, staring down at the fraying cuff of his shirt sleeve instead of looking at her.

“I – nothing really, I was just –” he stops himself and clears his throat. “Nothing.”

“No, go on,” Jemma prompts curiously. “You were going to say something.”

“It doesn’t matter –”

“Oh, come on.”

“Honestly, it’s nothing –”

“ _Fitz_ ,” she insists.

“Okay, okay, alright, _fine_.” He frowns grumpily. “It’s just today. It got me thinking, that’s all.”

“About what?”

He bites his lip absently.

“There were so many times today I was sure we were dead.”

Jemma nods, her eyes widening in agreement.

“I’m not surprised. Even with Ward there, the odds were stacked against you and imagine if May hadn’t shown up with the bus when she did.”

“It just made me think about – everything. You know?”

“Like what?”

He inhales another large gulp of air, breathing it out heavily.

“Just stuff.” Pause. Jemma forces herself to remain silent and wait for him to speak in his own time. “Like, if I didn’t survive, which was unlikely anyway because, like I already said, I can protect myself –”

“Absolutely.”

“But hypothetically, _if_ I didn’t survive… I wouldn’t have,..” Pause. “I would never have.” Pause. Jemma nods encouragingly. “I mean, I wouldn’t – you wouldn’t have known that when I was alive, I always wanted – what I never did …”

He trails off.

“And what was that?”

Fitz shrugs and looks away.

“Well.”

“Well…?”

Ten seconds of silence pass. Jemma waits patiently, wondering if he’s getting at what she thinks he’s getting at –

“It doesn’t matter,” he says again lowly.

“Fitz! Just tell me!”

“Fine! I thought about how I’ve never kissed you,” he blurts, colouring. “Happy?”       

Jemma blinks a few times, wondering what to say. She spends so much time with Fitz, she would be lying if the idea had never crossed her mind. The idea of kissing him.

“Kiss… me?”

Fitz shrugs again as he assesses her reaction warily. Jemma’s brain is whirring so fast she can barely keep up. Without consciously meaning for them to, her eyes trail down to Fitz’s lips which he is chewing on nervously.

But what – what is she doing?! This is absurd. She can’t kiss Fitz. Not _Fitz_. He’s just her lab partner. Okay, no he’s more than that. He’s her friend. Her best friend, actually. Her best friend in the world.

“Fitz, I don’t –“                                                                                                                 

“It’s okay,” Fitz cuts her off hastily. He tries to smile as if he doesn’t care but Jemma can see straight through it. “It’s fine if you don’t, you know, want to. That’s fine.”

“Fitz –”

“It’s fine,” he repeats, swallowing hard.

“Fitz!” Jemma cries his name, forcing him to focus on her instead of his shoes. She breathes slowly and straightens her back. “We’re scientists.”

“Right,” Fitz nods slowly.             

“We… come up with hypotheses and test them to prove them credible or not. In science we would never dismiss a concept without conducting further research.”

“Uh-huh,” Fitz is still nodding but he looks very confused.

“What I’m saying is… every possible option needs to be explored in order to gain full understanding.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“As _scientists_ ,” Jemma nods pointedly, “it’s in our nature to come to conclusions based on hard evidence above all else.”

Fitz pales faintly when he finally catches on to what his partner means.

“So, what you’re saying is… you want to conduct an experiment to test the previously mentioned idea –”

“And assess the results accordingly, yes,” Jemma finishes.

“A-are you sure?” Fitz mumbles.

Jemma nods although, honestly, she doesn't really know what she's talking about at this point. She rambles a little when she's nervous. But why should she be nervous? It's Fitz. Just Fitz. “For science.”

Fitz doesn't move for a second and neither does she.

"So, maybe we should..." she trails off, feeling distantly nauseous. 

Fitz nods once and leans in slowly, slower than she's ever seen him move, until their faces are millimetres apart and she can feel the warmth of his breath and hear the gentle rhythm of his chest rise and fall. His eyes are so close and calculating; wide pupils and a awe-stricken stare. She stares back and they stay like that for a moment. Jemma isn't too sure how to proceed. 

She panics internally. Does she really want to do this? She doesn't know the answer to that. Is it wise to kiss your best friend? Probably not.

In fact, she seems to recall reading a study about the dangers of platonic friends who become romantically involved. It all comes back to her as she meets Fitz’s gaze. _New research suggests that we may think we’re capable of being ‘just friends’ with members of the opposite sex, but the opportunity (or perceived opportunity) for ‘romance’ is often lurking just around the corner, waiting to pounce at the most inopportune moment._ Sure, it was social sciences so not entirely reliable but still, it was published by a credible source. Scientific American Monthly if she remembers correctly.

Maybe, if she quickly laughs and pretends she was pranking him the whole time, everything will go back to normal -

Before she can entirely wrap her head around the idea, Fitz closes the distance between them with one swift motion and then - that's it. His lips are on hers. No going back.

Jemma leans into him and a startled sound escapes her mouth. He tastes different to what she had been expecting; less sugary sweet and more... bitter. Although not in a bad way. In a black coffee pick-me-up kind of way. It's actually a very, very nice taste. 

Fitz puts more pressure into the kiss and Jemma feels that she ought to do the same. The more she puts into it, the better it feels. His lips are soft and careful in their movements. Her brain grows increasingly frazzled by the conflicted emotions she's feeling (enjoyment but also guilt, confusion, relief and...  maybe even lust? Oh no) and her body begins to react of its own accord. Her mouth parts, prizing Fitz's open and she feels the intimacy of his breath as it mingles with hers. 

A low appreciative hum comes from Fitz faintly and it's a surprisingly nice sound. Jemma feels a shiver run down her spine.

When Jemma pulls back, she feels slightly dizzy. In all honesty, it’s been a while since someone has kissed her in a non-platonic fashion. She can feel that her cheeks are flushed and her lips are parted gormlessly but she can’t seem to get her brain under control. Fitz leans back too and looks stunned.

"That was..." there are so many words Jemma could use to describe the kiss, it's hard to settle on one. “Warm."

Fitz doesn’t say anything. He looks very preoccupied.

“Right,” Jemma begins breathlessly. “Results then.”

“Uh – you go first,” Fitz manages to mumble, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Alright then,” Jemma nods, forcing herself to think scientifically. “After-effects include elevated heart rate, hot flush, mild stomach pain, although that could be unrelated, and considerable light-headedness.”

Fitz nods eagerly in agreement.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Jemma bites on her lip. It still tastes of him which is extremely distracting. 

"I -"

"Fitz! Simmons!" Skye's voice is suddenly audible, making both of them jump and pull apart from each other as if they had been caught doing something they shouldn't. "We're playing Scrabble if you wanna join!"

Jemma breaks out of her trance and looks at Fitz in faint amusement, wondering what quite to make of that whole experience. 

"Just a minute!" she calls back, her voice echoing through the bus.

"Prepare to have your asses kicked!" Skye chimes back, laughing.

Fitz sighs, clearly annoyed at the interruption. He assesses Jemma for a second, taking in her appearance. She can't help blinking and avoiding his gaze self-consciously - forcing herself to stay cool and not to blush like a schoolgirl. 

"We should probably go," she decides.

"But - we didn't discuss the results," he protests feebly.

"Well," she says slowly. "Now we know what the results are, we can reflect on them and have a debrief at a later date."

"Jemma -"

"Come on, they're waiting for us."

Fitz goes to argue but Jemma cuts him off.

"We can always continue the research another time," she suggests casually, getting to her feet and acting as blasé as she can manage. Inside, she groans in horror at the ridiculous statement that just left her mouth. What is she doing? 

To her surprise, when she turns to look over her shoulder, Fitz isn't laughing at her ridiculous attempt at seductive or making fun of her - actually the opposite. He stares at her with his mouth agape, seeming to be at a loss for words.

"Oh, Fitz," Jemma smirks - or attempts to anyway (how do people even smirk? Is it just like a sideways smile?) - as she walks away. "At least try and close your mouth." 

* * *

A few days later, they experience a heat wave.

Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. But it’s hot. Hotter than Fitz is used to anyway. The bus is stuffy and humid and he’s been trying to sleep for hours to no avail. The sheets feel restrictive and he keeps throwing them off.

Fitz is finally just drifting off when a series of soft taps on the door of his bunker jerk him back into consciousness.

Sitting up and blinking into the darkness, Fitz sees her figure silhouetted against the door of his bunk. He rubs his eyes to clear them and squints to see.

“Simmons?”

“I can’t sleep,” Jemma murmurs as if that’s explanation enough. “Can I come in?”

She stands in the doorway hesitantly. Her hair is messy. She’s wearing a grey tank top and pyjama bottoms. Fitz doesn’t know why that surprises him. What else is she supposed to sleep in? Her work clothes? Her lab coat?

It’s just been a long time since he’s seen her in something so… casual. Since they joined Coulson’s team, anyway. Seeing her in her pyjamas reminds him of the stupid things they used to do at the academy when they were younger. Sneaking out in the middle of the night to go to the boiler room and sip on drinks that were too strong and burned their throats and then crashing into the kitchen because Jemma wanted to make pancakes. Fitz burned them every time.

“Uh – yeah,” he nods in answer to her question.

Why does he feel nervous? It’s just Jemma. Who cares that she’s in her pyjamas? Who cares that she’s getting into his bed? Who cares?

As she steps out of the shadow and into the faint light he can see the how low cut her vest is. He orders himself to keep his eyes trained on her face and attempts to force any impure thoughts from his mind. Honestly, now is _not_ the time.

He’s about to shuffle over and make room for her when he suddenly remembers that –

“Actually,” he corrects himself, feels his face heating up, “you can’t.”

“What?” Jemma frowns. “Why not?”

“Because –” he sits up fully and raises a hand to stop her advances. “I’m not, uh –”

“You’re not what? Come on, Fitz, spit it out.”                                              

He glances down at himself and sighs.

“I’m not wearing any bottoms.”

Jemma laughs – a sudden snort which makes him jump. Noticing his embarrassed expression, she quickly presses a hand to her mouth to control herself.

“Fitz –”

“I’m glad that’s so amusing to you,” he mutters grumpily.

The only reason he’d taken his pyjama trousers off in the first place is because he was worried he might develop heatstroke. He remembers Jemma telling it about him one summer – you start off feeling hot and sweaty but then could lead to being sick, then fainting and then –

“No,” Jemma replies hastily, denying his words despite the edge of entertainment in her tone. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise.”

“Right,” Fitz agrees sarcastically.

“Look –”

“If you just go and come back in five minutes –” he begins.

“For goodness sake,” Jemma cuts him off, rolling her eyes. “It’s just _me_. I don’t care what you’re wearing. Or – not wearing in this case.”

She laughs again and he frowns.

“Jemma, come on –”

“Stop being such a baby,” she insists, ending the discussion.

Sliding the door shut, Jemma doesn’t let Fitz get another word in edgeways; instead pulling up his sheets and clambering into bed beside him. Fitz holds the covers down tightly around himself but he’s pretty sure Jemma still manages to catch a glimpse of his red boxers. He clears his throat as she settles down parallel to him. Her feet are cold despite the warmth of the bus; they brush against his bare leg and make him jump.

“Oh, sorry – I didn’t mean to –”

“No, no it’s fine,” he assures her, his voice a few octaves higher than usual.

She’s so close. He doesn’t know where to look. Their bodies press together and he tries to convince himself that he’s completely okay with that.

“Do you have enough –” he starts, offering her some of the blanket.

“Oh, no. I’m fine.”

Fitz swallows and nods.

He wonders why Jemma couldn’t sleep. Probably the same reason as him.

“So –” he starts.

“I was –” she speaks at the same time as him and they both stop immediately.

“Go on,” he encourages with a small nod.

“No, no it’s fine. What were you going to say?”

“I wasn’t – nothing really,” Fitz shrugs.

They’re silent for a moment. Jemma turns to look at him with an inquisitive look on her face.

“Things aren’t weird between us… are they?”

“Weird?” Fitz repeats innocently. “Why would they be weird?”

He can feel Jemma’s arm pressed against his, raising goose bumps on his skin. It’s a tight squeeze in his small bed. Fitz’s heart is pounding so heavily it’s painful.

“You know,” Jemma murmurs, stretching and creating friction between them. “Because we kissed.”

It’s weird to hear her saying the words. They catch Fitz off guard.

“We – uh, yeah, right I guess we did.” Fitz doesn’t say anything for a second. “It’s not weird. What’s weird?”

“I was just checking.”

Despite his words, Fitz is positive that something has changed between them. It’s not weird, necessarily. Just… different. She kissed him and hasn’t said a word about it. That’s not normal friend behaviour, right?

He’s been trying ignore it. Trying to act normally around her.

But it’s hard not to keep thinking about how close they were in that second and how nice it was.

Even right now. They’re not doing anything out of the ordinary. They’re just lying beside each other. But – something’s not the same. There’s definitely more touching before. Her hands brush against him frequently and he doesn’t mind it at all.

“Nothing weird. Just two friends in bed together.” Fitz instantly winces at his word choice. “I didn’t mean –”

“I know,” Jemma smiles.                                                  

Fitz presses his lips together to stop himself from saying anything else embarrassing. Instead, he focuses on Jemma. Her irregular, shallow breaths. Her eyes, wide and brown and flicked with gold, staring up at the ceiling. Her pursed lips and flushed cheeks.

She turns to face him suddenly with a warm smile. Fitz returns it, attempting to swallow the nervous lump that has formed in his throat. His stomach churns uncomfortably.

“We’ll always be together, won’t we Fitz?” Jemma breathes, her voice barely rising above a whisper.

It seems so out of the blue that it takes Fitz a few moments to think of a response.

“Of course we will,” he answers, slightly confused. “Why do you ask?”

Jemma bites her lip and runs her hand down Fitz’s arm. He shivers and immediately tries to hide it.

“I just think about it sometimes, that’s all.”

Fitz nods. He knows what she means. He thinks about it too sometimes.

“Can I ask something else?” Jemma mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.

“What now?” Fitz replies, trying to keep the smile out of his voice.

“Well.” Jemma turns onto her side so that she’s facing him. They’re so close their noses almost brush together. When she speaks, her breath fans his face. “Do you think you would mind awfully if I kissed you again?”

Fitz chokes on his breath slightly and has to clear his throat to cover it up.

“F-for science?”

Jemma shakes her head once.

“No. I just feel like it.”

Fitz’s mouth drops open a fraction.

“Oh,” he manages statically. “In that case…”

He leans in a little but Jemma waits, looking at him closely before advancing. The corner of her mouth pulls up into a half-smile and her eyes crinkle and Fitz doesn’t think he’s ever seen something more satisfying to look at.

“For the record,” Jemma whispers as they edge closer and closer together, “I enjoyed myself thoroughly last time.”

“Good,” Fitz nods. “Me too. Thoroughly.”

Jemma smiles again and then tilts her head, touching her forehead against his first and then gently brushing their lips together. She’s warm and delicate and soft, so _soft_. Every part of her is soft, not just her lips – the skin of her shoulders under Fitz’s fingertips and the waves of her hair and her closed eyelids and hot cheeks.

This kiss is different than before. She’s less reserved; he can feel her tongue on his straightaway and her hands are reaching up to his face, one curled around the back of his neck and the other stroking through his bed-mussed hair.

Fitz tries to be silent, honestly he does, but when one of Jemma’s legs curl around his and their bodies begin to tangle together, he lets out a strangled gasp into her mouth.

Jemma sighs in return and murmurs, “oh, Fitz.”

A shock runs through his body at the sound of his name on her tongue. It’s not like she hasn’t said his name before, just… never like _that_.

Is it weird that he’s imagined this? Is it weird that he wants this more than anything? Wants _her_?

Fitz doesn’t waste time thinking about it. He can’t focus on anything other than Jemma’s persistent touches and hungry lips and sweet flavour.

Turning onto his side so that he can wrap his arms around Jemma more easily, Fitz accidentally kicks the small table beside his bed, knocking over the lamp that rests on it. There’s a crash and a clatter as it hits the wall and rolls onto the ground. Fitz ignores it. Jemma doesn’t even seem to notice.

Trying to copy what he’s seen in movies, Fitz pulls away from Jemma’s lips and begins to trail kisses down her face instead; along her cheekbones and jawline and down onto her collarbones. She groans under his touch, her breathing loud and heavy.

Fitz is just beginning to wonder whether this has all been some overly elaborate dream when he’s interrupted by an echoing creak. The door of his bunk suddenly slides open and another silhouette appears.

“Fitz – oh my God!”

Startled, Fitz inhales sharply at the sound of his name and sits up – almost head-butting Jemma –glaring at the open door.

It’s Skye. She stands in the doorway with her mouth hanging open.                 

Jemma jumps away from Fitz and he does the same, dropping his hands from her face.

“Skye –” Jemma starts, blushing furious pink.

“Have you never heard of knocking?” he exclaims, panic making his voice high-pitched and breathless. He can tell that he’s as red-faced as Jemma.

“The door was unlocked!” Skye defends, her shock turning into humour. She laughs and shakes her head in disbelief. “What are you two _doing_? Actually don’t answer that.”

“Oh, God,” Jemma groans.                                                                         

“Why are you lurking around in the middle of the night, anyway?” Fitz continues to interrogate Skye, shaking slightly from her shock appearance. “It’s a bit suspicious.”

“I was going to the bathroom!” Skye exclaims. “I heard a crash and I thought –”

“Skye we weren’t doing anything –” Jemma tries again to explain.

“Are you sure? You guys are in bed together!”

“Nothing happened, I swear,” Jemma says in a rush. “Please don’t tell Coulson.”

“I wouldn’t call it _nothing_ ,” Fitz protests. “There was tongue involved.”

“Fitz!” Jemma hisses.

“Oh my God!” Skye covers her face with her hands and laughs. “This is the best day ever.”

“Why don’t you want Coulson to know?” Fitz questions Jemma, wondering whether he should be offended.

“Because!” Jemma huffs. “It’s unprofessional.”

“Trust me, Coulson won’t mind. You know everyone has been taking bets on when you two will finally get together?” Skye arches an eyebrow.

“What?!” Jemma cries, colouring darker.

“They have?” Fitz asks.

“Will you _stop_ smiling,” Jemma commands Fitz in embarrassment, elbowing him.

“Ow!”

“I gotta say, I’m surprised it’s taken this long.” Skye is still smirking.

“Me too,” Fitz mumbles.

“ _Fitz_!” Jemma cries, completely exasperated.

He smiles sheepishly at her in apology. He can’t deny that he’s kind of enjoying himself, though. Jemma Simmons has just kissed him. With _tongue_.

“It was just a kiss,” Jemma clarifies, “completely innocent.”

“I believe you,” Skye says. She clears her throat, “so… how long has this been going on for?”

“Just –”

“Not long,” Jemma clears up. “In fact, I don’t even know what this _is_.”

Skye raises her eyebrows, sensing some unspoken questions that linger between them.

“What do you mean?” Fitz asks.

Taking a breath, Jemma forces a small smile and turns to face him. Skye watches apprehensively from the doorway.

“This is just – it’s scary, isn’t it? You’re my best friend –or you were, now I don’t even know –”

“You’re still my best friend,” Fitz says. “That doesn’t have to change.”

“But it’s not the same–”

“Define the word then.”

Jemma stops for a second, then quietly answers him. “A person with whom one has a bond of mutual affection.”

“That’s us, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes…”

“Now we’re just friends who kiss.”

Jemma smiles and Fitz does too. He quite likes the sound of that.

“Okay.”

Looking at her face, Fitz’s attention is slowly drawn back to her lips, which are full and soft and damp and rosy pink. And so inviting.

“Did you want to –” Fitz makes a vague gesture that Jemma doesn’t appear to understand. “You know.”

“What?”

“You _know_ ,” he urges. “Continue…”

“Oh. _Oh_. Okay.”

“Gross,” Skye mutters, pulling a face. “I guess I should leave you guys to it then,” she decides, trying not to laugh.

Fitz had almost forgotten she was in the room. Jemma opens her mouth to say something but he speaks over her.

“Yeah, you probably should. We weren’t quite finished.”

He smiles proudly at how casually cool he sounds while Skye snorts and Jemma buries her face in her hands.

“Right,” Skye nods, her eyes lit up with amusement. “Sorry to interrupt. By all means, continue.”

“Oh we will,” Fitz assures her.

Skye turns to leave, pausing for just a second before she does to add, “use protection, yeah?”

“ _Skye_!” Jemma wails in mortification.

Fitz doesn’t say anything; he just waits until Skye has gone and closed the door behind her before turning to Jemma with a mischievous smile on his face.

He gently pulls Jemma’s hands from her face and angles her chin upwards so that she’s looking right at him.

“So, shall we –” he breathes, within close proximity now.

Jemma pushes the hair out of her face and shuffles closer to him so that they are as close as they were before. Her body warmth radiates onto Fitz’s own frame.

“Yeah.”

He can’t help smiling as they kiss for the third time, wondering if he’ll ever get used to the strange, whirling sensation he feels in the pit of his stomach every time.

Probably not. But that’s okay.

Even though he can hear Skye waking up Ward down the hallway to squeal excitedly about how _FitzSimmons are in bed together_ , he decides to ignore it.

He decides to ignore everything except for the pressure on his lips and heavy beating of Jemma’s heart right next to his.


End file.
